


the lord giveth and the lord taketh away

by vandoorne



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barely Legal, Blow Jobs, Bullying, Come Shot, Come as Lube, Creampie, First Time Blow Jobs, Forced Orgasm, Gang Rape, Humiliation, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Nipple Torture, Non-Consensual Blow Jobs, Non-Consensual Kissing, Non-Consensual Touching, Nonconathon Treat, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Unsafe Sex, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-06-03 19:25:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19470559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vandoorne/pseuds/vandoorne
Summary: thing is, even the high king of narnia has to bow down to the petty tyrants of boarding school on the communal shower floor.





	the lord giveth and the lord taketh away

**Author's Note:**

  * For [penumbralsock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/penumbralsock/gifts).



_You are Peter Pevensie, High King Peter the Magnificent, Emperor of the Lone Islands, Lord of Cair Paravel, Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Lion._

Those are the words that run through Peter's mind, over and over again. He's a King, no, not just any ordinary King but a _High King_. He will not bend, nor will he break. No, no matter what they do to him. He looks up at his tormentors, chin held high, and he wills the tears not to fall. They will not break him, he thinks. He will not yield.

At least, that's what Peter tells himself. When they bring him to the communal showers in the dead of night, stripping him of his clothes, touching him in places where no one else has ever touched before, he tells himself that he should fight them off. He has wielded swords, led armies into battle in Narnia. What can his schoolmates do to him?

But alas, as the night wears on, Peter finds his resolve not to yield crumbling. Bit by bit, as they play with his nipples. They pinch them, suck on them. Pull them. Squeeze them. Bite them. They kiss his lips, and Peter pulls away in disgust because his lips have never known another's before, and now his first kiss is gone, to some bully on the floor of his boarding school's communal showers. There is nothing romantic, nothing beautiful. And they laugh, taunting his foolish attempts at resistance. There is nowhere for Peter to run; they surround him on all ends. How many boys are there? Five? Six? Seven? They meld together as one entity, determined to wreck him. They chastise him for daring to stand up for the crippled boy, who was only this way because he had been caught out in the bombings. They admonish him for daring to tell on them for stealing homework and passing it off as their own. This is revenge for him doing what is _good and right and just_ , and Peter is shaking on his knees, shaking as one by one they stick their cocks in his face, demanding that he service them all.

See, Peter has never had anything like this before. It is one thing to have your own hand shoved down your underwear to get rid of a persistent erection. It is another for your schoolmates to be forcing their cocks down your throat, forcing you to jerk them off, forcing you to suck their cocks. They tell him that he sucks cock so beautifully, his lips were made not to speak but only to suck cock. They toy with Peter's nipples throughout, and someone even suggests putting wooden pegs on them to keep them hard little nubs, to which Peter thrashes about in protest.

But oh, this isn't the worst part. He's on his hands and knees, he's sucking cock after cock and there's the humiliating splash of hot come on his arse, dribbling down to his crack, and then he's forced down, arsecheeks spread and someone presses his cock to Peter's asshole, coming all over in spurts. Peter protests, he struggles, almost bites someone's cock only to get a slap across his face because no, _no_. Not his arsehole. It's dirty, that's where he... Where he... Fuck, it's where he shits from, they cannot possibly want to put anything inside him. He tenses up, struggling, and then there are fingers that are forced into his arsehole. One, two, hot and slick. It burns, he hates it so much, doesn't want the intrusion but they are persistent, so persistent that _oh fuck_.

The boys laugh, knowing that they have found Peter's prostate. Peter's eyes are glazed over now, he's never felt anything like this before. Not even from touching his own cock. There's nothing like that white hot jolt of pleasure that he feels, and he doesn't even want this. He's being defiled against his will, but his treacherous cock is hard and leaking and dribbling all over the shower floor, and his body is actually enjoying this. Oh, the shame when they tease his cock, when they make snide remarks about how his prick is tiny compared to theirs but it's hard alright, hard and that means Peter is enjoying this, he wants this, he _needs_ this. His cheeks burn in humiliation, he wants to protest, wants to say something harsh and biting but he can hardly do so with a mouth full of cock.

When someone finally fucks Peter, he groans, curling into himself on the floor, arse up in the air. He cannot bring himself to fight back any more. Even if he can muster it up within him, his body tells him no. His body craves the pleasure. They take their turns, filling him up with come. Sloppy seconds, thirds and more. He looks downwards, head no longer held high. There is no point in resisting. His body wants the pleasure that only a cock buried deep in his arsehole, pleasuring him over and over will bring. They yank his head up, fingers fisted in his golden hair. Someone wants to use his mouth. Someone wants to come on his face. They all want to fuck him, all want to use both his holes. Everything tastes disgusting and filthy, Peter doesn't want any of this but his body betrays him, coming over and over. White spurts at first, then feeble strings of clear liquid that had been forced out against his will.

Afterwards, when all the boys have had their fill, they tell him to lie on his back, with his legs up, thighs splayed, hands holding his arsecheeks apart so they can all admire how Peter has been stuffed so full of their come that it cannot stop leaking out of him. They laugh at how his arsehole is now loose and slack, and they tell him that the next time, his arsehole will only be tight enough if there are two cocks buried inside him at the same time. Their words should register as fear in Peter's head. Instead, his cock twitches at the thought, impossibly, and the boys laugh at him. Humiliation should be washing over him but instead, it's replaced by is a strange sort of warmth seeping through his body.

They tell him that this look suits him more. They tell him that this is how he should be, this is his place. No longer the goody two shoes Peter Pevensie. He's now a filthy little cockslut, who comes over and over when other boys fill up his arsehole.

 _There there, Peter. You're our pet now,_ they tell him. Someone strokes his hair, almost tender. _No more telling on us, or we'll stop fucking you. You love it when we fuck you, don't you, Peter? Never felt such pleasure before. How do you think you'll cope if we make sure you'll never have a cock up your arsehole ever again? Maybe you'll resort to fucking yourself with the beakers in the Science laboratory. Always remember, Peter. The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away._

They leave him alone in the communal showers, taking his pyjamas with them. His body is quivering and shaking, he's just lying there on the ground now, in a puddle of his own seed, jaw lax, lips smeared with come, body defiled.

Peter doesn't have any energy to move any more. He wants to leave here. Now. Immediately. This isn't his home. This will never be his home. Narnia is where he belongs, but Narnia is miles and miles and miles away. Even if he crawls his way back to his room here, when he opens his wardrobe, there will be nothing but his clothes, not a home to return to.

And even if he could return to Narnia, could he even face his people after all this? How would they react when they learn that their High King is nothing but a teenage boy who came over and over after being fucked and held down against his will?

He squeezes his eyes shut, and this time, the tears fall.

No, nothing has changed, even if his body will never return to the way it was before.

_You are Peter Pevensie, High King Peter the Magnificent, Emperor of the Lone Islands, Lord of Cair Paravel, Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Lion._

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to A for the beta!


End file.
